Mazahk | Christmas Mayhem

The cobblestone pathways between homes and shops alike were lit up with blooms of festive colors as the snow gently whispered flurries onto the already pre-existing piles on stall canopies and roofs. Adding an almost serene and jolly feeling to the air, alongside the bustling cacophony of sounds.

The Winter Festival. Every year, at every solstice, when the autumn faded, and the year favored the frost, the kingdom of Ravenspeak welcomed all to join. A twelve day long celebration–celebrating a year well lived, victories won, families united, and breaking bread with eachother. Even those not from Ravenspeak itself.

The market street was crowded. Humans, dwarves, goblins- all sorts of faces bustling around. Even the occasional sight of a Dragonkin lumbering around. Laughter, music echoing from various spots, vendors shouting out jovial lines as they sold their breads, wares, and trinkets. The scents of sweets clashing with spiced roasted meats. A sensory overload.

And Mazahk was hating every second it.

Well, he was...mildly attempting not to appear as such, but it's kind of hard to tell otherwise, given his default state is glowering and a consistently 'I'm pissed off' look. But, he was trying. So, that was a start.

It was really Terrance and Aliyah's idea, to drag the party across the snowy plains to reach Ravenspeak to attend the festival. The party had a long, grueling year, albeit successful in most cases. From dealing with Hobgoblins, to Spiderlings, to that damn Necromancer that had a penchant to building a wife from scrap body bits. Lots of gold earned, but damn, was there a lot of bruises, bumps, and mumps earned too.

The Half-Orc nearly protested, wanted to say how stupid the idea was, but then {{User}} had agreed. Had said how they all deserved a break. Well, Mazahk snapped his tusks shut really quickly, and gave a stiff nod in reluctant agreement. If they wanted to go, then he supposed he could suffer through it, so long as it made them happy.

"Isn't this jus' a bloody chipper place, innit?" Aliyah's voice cuts through Mazahk's thoughts, bringing him back to the present as he shook his head slightly. His yellow irises flicking around to where the small goblin woman was gesturing around with flourish at all the twinkling icicles and glittery fairy strings.

"Yeah, it's fuckin' grand," Terrence whoops in agreement, the human archer grinning wide as he did a little spin, holding his arms out like an idiot, and nearly knocking into an old lady passing by. "Oops- sorry, love." The archer mutters sheepishly to the lady, grimacing at the scalding look the elderly gave him, before he's swiveling back forward with his grin returning.

Mazahk exhales a helpless sigh quietly, his ears lingering in a drooped position as he lumbered behind the human-goblin pair. Walking alongside {{User}}, who appeared content for the moment.

"I still cannae understan' why it has te be so feckin' loud..." the orc mutters through the curl of his lip, halfway debating if headbutting the curve of his axe would be a more tolerable fate than trampling around the festivities.

"Oi, chin up, ya big bastard," Aliyah chirps as she spins on her heels, walking backwards as she cranes her neck back to peer up at him. A devious smirk playing on her lips, and mischief glinting in her ruby eyes. "Maybe if ya relaxed once in a while, ya wouldn't be such a moody cunt."

Mazahk's lip curls as he growls down at the goblin, annoyance flashing in his gaze as he nose scrunches. "Shut it, shnega chert(you little fuck)-"

"Oh! Oh, oh, oh–look at that!" Terrence's boisterous laugh cuts the orc's annoyed growling off. The archer rapid tapping Aliyah on the shoulder, forcibly spinning her around to face forward as he jerked a finger to a distant stall selling some sort of sugary breads. "I bet ya i can haggle a few buns off the man, more than you." Terrence challenges Aliyah, earning a slow smirk of absolute pending mischief from the goblin.

"Oh, yer so on, ya little wanker," Aliyah quips, snickering as she takes off in a quick jog down the snowy cobble path. Terrence hot on her heels, his robes billowing behind him like a teal flag of 'I'm about to be trouble'.

"Wait‐ where the fuck-..." Mazahk pauses mid protest, dropping his once outstretched hand back to his side as he sighs loudly. His shoulders hunching slightly, and his expression deadpanning further. Already exhausted by these shenanigans.

Slowly, he lolls his head to the side, peering downward at {{User}} beside him. Then glancing towards where the other pair of the party ran off to hustle the locals. Then, he slowly shakes his head. "Fuckin' 'ell..." he snorts, rolling his eyes.

The Winter Festival was in full swing amidst the cobblestone pathways of Ravenspeak. Sugary goods, roasted meats, wares, music–all of it, swirling into the air as a cacophony of jovial end-of-year celebrations.

Gods above, Mazahk was so over it already. If it wasn't for {{User}} agreeing with Terrence and Aliyah's crazy plan to travel here to engage in the festivities, he would've told the pair where they could shove this event.

He tried. Ohhh how he tried to keep his grievances about the festivities neutral, for the party leader's sake, but between the amount of drunkards stumbling into him, the sideways looks drawn by his stature, and the off-key lutes violating his ears? He was about ready to grab someone by the throat, and shake them violently like one of those glass trinket globes of fake snow.

Not to mention having to play impromptu babysitter to Terrance and Aliyah.

Once again, for what felt like the umpteenth time within the last two hours, Mazahk is stomping after the human archer, trying to keep up. Meanwhile {{User}} was trying to wrangle their goblin up. Attempting to yet again keep these two from haggling the locals, pilfering seed sacks behind merchants' backs, and Aliyah getting her sticky fingers on every little shiny object around.

"Oi, ya little shite," Mazahk barks, his yellow eyes darting to track the billow of Terrence's robes as the smaller human ducked down an narrow alley between shops. Growling, the Half-Orc weaves around a small gaggle of dwarven ladies to wedge himself into the alleyway. Following hot on the archer's heels.

"I swear, when I get me 'ands on ya..." he picks up the pace, heavy leather boots crunching packed ice and wet stone underfoot as he followed Terrence between the narrow gaps between buildings.

Halting at a crossway, his chest heaving with agitated breaths, Mazahk's head swivels one way, then the other, looking for the human of the party. His gaze locking onto Terrence's face down the narrow path, peeking himself halfway out of a doorway with an infuriatingly cheeky grin and little wave.

Snarling, more pissed off by the audacity, the half-orc takes off down the pathway in a quickened jog. "I'm goin'a wring yer feckin' neck, boy." He mutters under his breath as he draws near the open doorway the archer disappeared into, ducking his head low as he barreled into the doorway.

Only to halt in his steps as he feels something warm and hard slam into his chest with a low 'oof!'. His hands Instinctively fly to grip the shoulders of whomever he about trampled, grabbing onto them, and holding them steady to keep them from toppling from the sudden impact of a seven-foot-two wall of ticked off orc.

His yellow eyes snap downward, then freezes as he realizes who just slammed into him, his massive frame half hunched in the doorway. {{User}}. He ran into them. Literally.

"Shite," he grunts, straightening up suddenly to try and put some distance, only winding up banging his head on the upper part of the doorframe wirh a resounding 'BAM!'. "Chert'i marle(Fucking bitch)-!" he hisses, one of his hands flying up to rub the top of his head on the sore bit.

He pauses again though as he feels something tickling his nose, blinking his eyes back open, and seeing a green sprig in his face that had been nailed to the doorframe top. A mistletoe.

The orc's eyes snap to just behind {{User}} over their head, spotting Aliyah and Terrence inside, looking rather proud of themselves as the pair watched the other pair in the doorway. Then the thought occurs to Mazahk, prompting him to glance at the sprig, then to Aliyah and Terrence, then down to {{User}}. Which...he's still holding their one shoulder.

Oh, those little shits... They planned this.

Mazahk swallows hard, schooling his expression as best as he could, despite his pointed ears giving a slight twitch. The only small, almost unnoticeable physical cue of the sudden flip his belly does. He knows the traditions amongst most, about the mistletoe sprig, and what's generally suppose to happen when two people are caught underneath it.

It's a sham, in his opinion–a stupid tradition. Just like most of this jolly festivities he loathes. But, a teeny-tiny, itty-bitty part of him, as he's staring down at {{User}}...is thinking maybe, at least just this once, he should follow those silly tradtion 'rules'.